Arranged Marriages
by Kat12395
Summary: 'Those who weren't completely silent from the shock of it found themselves profusely exclaiming cries of unlawfulness; Pansy Parkinson from the Slytherin table finding herself unable to do anything but let out a deranged scream.' M for a reason!  ON PERMANENT HIATUS. CHECK OUT 'THE HIDDEN MARAUDER'- A NEW HP FANFICTION BY ME FOR MORE HP AWESOMENESS
1. Solutions to Problems

As the war ended, the Wizarding world suffered a bitter-sweet victory. The loss of loved ones reigned true, and yet, so did the victory of the Dark-Lord's defeat. Nothing was assured any more. Every wizard and witch was shaken; each now holding the shocking realization that everything was interchangeable - fate wise. Yet, for now, the citizens breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that when the after-math was gone they would not have to handle something like the war again. At least, not in their life time.

The ministry of magic, however, suffered a panic attack.

This much was clear from the internal surroundings of the towering building; all of the floors of people who hadn't been killed or injured in the war were filling papers, ripping them out and dropping them all over the cold stone floors and hardwood desks. Funerals were organised for the masses, all the dead and injured accounted for, damaged property compensated for those who lost it.

The Minister of the Ministry of Magic was known to be the only one without his office in ruins. The towering, heavy book-cases that surrounded the area seemed insignificant due to the fact that there was a large, hard-wood desk taking central stage in the room, accompanied by an impressive chair - quilted with maroon fabric. Behind that sat a window, in which daylight streamed through no matter the time of day, often making the minister seem even more powerful than they originally would have.

Yet on this particular day, as the ministry was attempting to build itself up from the ground again, the light from behind the chair of the minister simply made them appear far more frightening.

The ministry could safely say that it was lacking in funds, structure and most of all-

"People?" Kingsley Shacklebolt, the relatively newly appointed Minister of Magic spoke in outrage, his voice implying his sheer disbelief at the situation. "How can we be lacking in people!"

"W-well..." His assistant spluttered, over-sized glasses falling sloppily along his large, thin, freckly nose, "I-It's not so much people... m-more wizards-"

"That doesn't answer my question at all!" Shouted Shacklebolt, slamming a gruff fist on his desk, causing the glass of water there to shake slightly.

"A l-lot of wizards were wiped out during the war..." The squeaky voice continued, drawing more frantically high-pitched and rushed as he struggled to voice what he was trying to say. "N-not enough people are c-coupled and re-reproducing. Th-the pure bloods don't w-want the muggle-borns... or any o-other blood statuses... The po-population is dipping so much that-"

"Magic's being wiped out?" Kingsley spoke, eyes wide as he caught on to what the small assistant was trying to say, "And you know this because...?"

"I-I've been looking at the figures of life and d-death among wizard kind..."

"So there's no room to doubt, then. If you're wrong, we're looking at more deaths added to the toll than life - as the supposed 'missing' would be classed dead, yet the dead cannot be resuscitated."

"C-correct."

"Stop stuttering!" Shacklebolt rubbed his forehead angrily with a rough palm, "We need a way to fix this! Magic cannot be diminished - we fought to save civilized magic, not to have no magic at all!"

"I-" The assistant paused, desperately not wanting to stutter in order to avoid angering the Minister further. Swallowing determinedly, he continued, "-have an idea."

Leaning over the desk, the assistant whispered in Shacklebolt's ear - attempting to avoid the prying ears that were likely to have been listening to the argument storming from the only room calm in appearance. After Shacklebolt's look of confusion from the closeness of his assistant was removed, he replaced it with one of surprise, one of outrage, and then one of a grimace.

"As much as I hate your idea," Kingsley began, watching the face of the assistant fall from where he stood on the other side of the room again, "It might be the only thing that will work."

"I believe so, sir."

"Draw up the paper-work then. Quickly."

The assistant's eyes widened, and his identifiable stutter returned to him.

"A-are you sure you won't need t-time to th-think about this?"

Shacklebolt shook his head, raising his hand to gesture that the other man should leave the room.

"We haven't got any more time left to think."

* * *

><p>Harry Potter found himself in a familiar compartment on the way to Hogwarts, on September the 1st, immediately after their supposedly 'relaxing' summer.<p>

As much as it had supposedly been a time to celebrate the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry had simply spent it worrying. Worrying and grieving. He had finally had time to properly grieve over the loss of the figure he held closest to 'father' - Sirius Black. He'd had time to grieve over the figure he recognized as almost a 'grandfather' - Albus Dumbledore. Tonks, Lupin, Fred, Dobby and even Hedwig were not forgotten either- each receiving a different type of grieving. Yet, all of them held guilt. All of them had Harry holding the opinion that he could have done _something_ differently. He didn't have to have lost all of them.

"Harry?"

Hermione lent over to him, a firm hand clasped on the knee that Harry had nonchalantly been jogging up and down whilst staring thoughtfully out of the compartment window at the fast moving countryside.

"Hm?" Harry replied, and by Hermione's eyes rolling, he realised that she must have asked a question, or attempted to communicate with him, a while before he noticed her.

"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"

"I can't help it." Harry responded, not bothering to ask what 'it' was. He was perfectly aware that she was more than likely referring to the war - Hermione seemed to have an obscure talent for mind-reading, more than she would ever truthfully understand. "We lost so many- and it was all my-"

"No." She replied bluntly, cutting him off before he was finished. "No, Harry. You're wrong. We've had this discussion before."

"I know." Sighed Harry, glumly, "I just can't help it. I don't know how to change the way I see this."

Hermione shook her head, sighing more softly than Harry had done; disappointed that she did not have all of the answers she wished she could.

"I'm not sure either, Harry. Honestly- I've been distracting myself from it all."

Harry watched as she bit her lip nervously, looking to the compartment door as to beg for some kind of distraction, or change in topic. He knew she was probably considering her parents- considering the fact that she still hadn't restored their memories. She knew that they'd be angry; that was, if they were still alive. Harry knew that this guilt could only add to the sensations of guilt that he was experiencing - the ones that she would assuredly have too.

As though on cue, the compartment door was slung open and a chirpy Ginny slid onto the same bench as Harry, her red hair trailing in wild wisps across her porcelain face. She sported a flattering rose-tinted blush as she spotted Harry looking down at her with approval; a shy smile present on his face.

He was pleased that Ginny had decided to join him. Secretly, he'd been concerned that she was again interested in one of her previous loves as they had seldom spoken since the war ended - with the grieving that each was experiencing, it didn't seem right to enjoy themselves. Harry saw hope, with Ginny. He saw happiness, and although it was far too early to say such a thing, he supposed that he saw future with her; a future that otherwise, he wasn't sure he would have.

The famous Gryffindor bravery coursed through his blood as he steadied his breathing, daring to place a pale arm around Ginny's shoulders and hug her closer. He sighed in relief as she relaxed against him, watching her smile contentedly and lean against his shoulder.

"Hi." Harry murmured nervously, "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright." She said, her smile falling slightly, although she appreciated Harry's tactical way of speaking. "Sorry that I didn't see you much over the summer - I just-"

Harry shook his head firmly; a silent dismissal of her apology. She seemed to understand, as she did not reply or continue her speech and she relaxed considerably as Harry's arm around her shoulders gave her a reassuring squeeze.

A moment later, Ron Weasley lumbered through the compartment, dragging with him a large duffle-bag, that supposedly belonged to Ginny - as it was covered in small, delicate patterns - something a man, or boy, obsessed with masculinity would not dare to own.

Harry smiled faintly at his best friend's red, angered face; Ginny, however, looked concernedly at Hermione, and Hermione herself tensed considerably. It was Harry's observation of this that led to his smile fading, and his glance flicking between the two young women nervously.

Hermione stared at Ron. Simply stared. She hadn't spoken to him since the end of the war - since they'd bid each other their good-byes and had been left to grieve alone. Although Hermione recognized Ron's losses, she was truly angry that he had not even been concerned enough about her to _communicate_ with her. It was almost as though he acted that he was in more pain than she - yet he was luckier than he could ever realize. He still had the majority of his family; that much, she was sure of; while Harry and herself had no parental figures watching over them and not a huge number of friends to speak of, as everyone had grown apart over the long and straining summer.

Golden Trio? Hermione grimaced at the thought that such a wondrous title had been tarnished by Ronald. It was more like 'Golden Duo' now; Hermione had come to rely on Harry more than she ever would have anticipated - and the same applied with Harry's reliance on Hermione. Ron, sadly, had not paid them any mind as they rebuilt their lives, and Hermione found that she was surprisingly reluctant to trust him.

Very reluctant - especially seeing as she'd _liked_ him, throughout their duration at Hogwarts.

"What do you put in this thing, Ginny?" Moaned Ron, dropping the bag on the floor with no regard to what may be inside as he did so. "I thought Hermione was the only one that reads one million and one bloody books in a term!"

"Well thank you, _dearest _brother." Ginny snapped back, "But contrary to _your_ belief, Hermione's not the only person who enjoys reading!"

Hearing her name seemed to snap Ron out of a momentary daze, forcing him to look away from his sister and swivel his head around to the young woman in question.

What he saw surprised him.

Hermione looked quite a lot different to what Ron might have remembered; her bushy brown hair replaced by relatively, not entirely, soft waves of warm brown that wove themselves to a few inches below her shoulders. Her honey brown eyes appeared to have darkened with age - making her entire face look more sophisticated; mature, even. She'd kept a well maintained weight - not too thin, and not too large, although Ron knew that many-a-girl had lost, or put on, weight from the trauma of the war. In-fact, the only thing that gave away that Hermione was suffering along with the others were the dark circles that stained the ivory skin below her eyes - showing her discomfort in sleep.

"'Mione." He whispered, disregarding Ginny's comment completely. Ginny responded by smacking a small, pale palm to her forehead, creating a small, satisfying '_slap_'.

"Ronald." Replied Hermione, looking up at him as warmly as she could muster - although this was not much warmth at all.

"How was your-"

"Not one letter."

Ron blinked, frowning in confusion before widening his eyes in realisation.

"That was becaus-"

"I don't want your excuses." Interrupted Hermione again, turning to look at Harry, who was looking worriedly back at her, before she turned her gaze to the passing countryside. "We could have dealt with things together; the three of us. I could understand you spending time with your family for a while, but no time with us?"

She paused for a moment, thinking about how to adjust her statement. Ginny wasn't in the wrong; and yet Hermione knew immediately that she would begin to feel that way with what had just been voiced.

"Ginny had the courteousness to owl Harry and myself; and you had the audacity to ignore the both of us? After what we went through as a three, Ronald, I think you owed us more than that."

Ron, being the stubborn man that he was, simply slumped into the seat next to Hermione, as Ginny and Harry's side had already begun to become crowded. The seats were not long - Harry and Hermione's cabin had become more crowded than they had expected; they were uncertain as to whether the Weasley's would be joining them on this trip back to Hogwarts, as all of them - bar Ginny, Molly and Arthur - had given them the cold shoulder over the emotionally challenging summer months.

Silence fell over the cabin, and it stayed that way for the majority of the journey to Hogwarts. Hermione found herself day-dreaming out of the window, calming herself from her earlier vent to Ronald. Hushed whispers were exchanged between Ginny and Harry - catching up with each other on what they had missed, from small, mindless gossip, to the more serious of things that they had missed in each other's lives over the summer. Ron himself sat scowling, staring at Harry and his sister in jealousy at the fact that he could not have the same relationship with Hermione whilst unwrapping and devouring the chocolate frogs that he had purchased with some of the vast fortune he had inherited; a perk of being one of the adored Golden Trio. Ron couldn't understand why Hermione couldn't stop herself from being angry at him and Hermione knew that Ron could never understand, yet she was not surprised. After all, she already knew that he had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy, too, found himself on the way back to Hogwarts after an <em>interesting<em> summer.

His summer had not consisted of the same grieving as the rest of the Wizarding world. Although he had lost numerous family members in battle, he couldn't say that he was sad to have seen them go; although his father had been convicted of his crimes and was serving a long, _well deserved_, sentence in Azkaban, he did not feel remorse for him either. He considered that perhaps he were entirely selfish - but eventually came to the resolve that he'd known he'd been fighting for the wrong side for a very long time. In the end, the things that the Dark Lord had stood for were wrong. Simply… wrong. He was not brave enough to admit it at the time, not even to himself - yet now, he found that he could.

And with that came an overwhelming guilt for the crimes he had committed; the wrongs that he had performed against all of the people he had been forced to consider lesser. Less wealthy, less traditional, less aristocratic, and most of all - with the least pure blood.

Malfoy couldn't completely rid his prejudices as much as he wanted to; not quite yet, anyway. He knew that there were some incredibly intelligent mud- he paused, mentally slapping himself at the mere thought of the term. He knew that there were some incredibly intelligent _Muggle-borns_, that much was proved by his constant defeat in classes to a few; some Ravenclaw students and one _damn_ Gryffindor, the same Gryffindor in fact, that was involved in the destroying of the Dark Lord.

He couldn't say that he didn't sometimes despise the bravery of the Gryffindors- charging head first into things without thinking them through first; yet he knew that the Dark Lord would still be alive without them.

Silently thanking Merlin for the Dark Lord's demise, Draco was snapped from his thoughts as a pale, bony hand, belonging to a certain Pansy Parkinson, crawled its way from his forearm to his abdomen; creeping lower and lower until Draco grabbed her hand in one of his, placing it firmly back in her own lap.

"It's not working."

"What's not working?" She replied with feign innocence, batting her dark eye lashes and playing with her shoulder length, straight, black hair.

"Your ridiculous attempts at seduction."

Frowning, Pansy hesitated to reply for a moment, attempting not to let her sudden flustered feeling, that came with allowing Draco to stare into her eyes, show on her face.

She failed miserably.

"It was good enough for you last year. And the year before. _And_ the year before." Pansy replied, feebly.

"I was a different person, a year ago. Why do you think I'd be invited to be back on this train otherwise?"

"Invited?" Blaise spoke up from where he was on the other side of the cabin; a demur smile gracing his dark skin, obviously amused at the 'entertainment', "More like forced. McGonagall didn't sound particularly pleased to have us back."

"I wonder if she sent the same letter to all of the students, or whether the sharp ones were only intended for the Slytherins…" Pansy mused.

Draco shrugged, ignoring Pansy and replying directly to Blaise. "They'd better have a good reason for bringing us back. I know a large majority of the students who fought in the war would be offered a direct job opportunity in the ministry, not to mention the fact that I would much rather _not _be here at all if I didn't have to be."

Blaise nodded slowly. "The sooner we know why we're here, the better."

"Indeed." Replied Draco, deliberately ignoring - and trying not to laugh at - Pansy's ridiculous pouting. "Indeed."

* * *

><p><em>AN - Reviewing is paramount for the continuing of this story (and please do review - I quite like where this is going)!_

_This isn't another one of those gushy, AU stories. I'm desperately trying to keep the characters as I believe they should be - but canon. This means that the relationship between Hermione and Draco forms quite a lot slower than you would usually expect._

_...And for those of you whom are on author alert because of my Skyrim fiction 'Stopping being the listener' - I'm working on a new chapter as we speak! _


	2. Revelations

Hermione was very pleased indeed to have been allowed off of the Hogwarts Express.

She wouldn't ask Ronald to move, for fear that it would spark an argument that she was unwilling to participate in, yet this meant that she was stationary for the entire length of the journey. She hadn't regretted choosing the outside seat though; she never did. It gave her something to watch, allowing easy avoidance of Ron's glare.

Moving up to the castle was something that the seventh years appeared to be very nervous about. The last time that the majority of students had been here, the castle was in ruins - destroyed by the overwhelming power of Lord Voldemort. In fact, those who didn't remember it that way were either extremely forgetful, or simply had been pulled out of school by their parents, who didn't understand anything other than the fact that their child was in danger.

"The nargles are far less common now."

Hermione was snapped from her thoughts to see Luna Lovegood standing immediately beside her; Luna's blonde hair waving gracefully down her shoulders as she turned her pale, angular face from one direction to the other slowly - as though looking for something.

"Oh?" Replied Hermione, feigning understanding.

"Uh-huh." Luna sighed, and Hermione supposed she'd given up on looking for them now. "It's a shame, really."

"I can imagine."

They walked for a while in silence, staring at the grassy hill-tops and tall trees of the forbidden forest that they were passing. Nearing closer and closer to the towering castle, Hermione drifted to and from thoughts of Hogwarts; fearing what she might see, and wondering what she would see.

"Do you have any idea why we're back here?" Hermione asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

"I'm not sure." Luna replied dreamily, looking up at the castle as they wondered through the threshold together.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes as she looked around the castle now.

The ceilings seemed so much taller than they had been before - but perhaps that was because the last time she'd been here, they were on the floor. The arches were gracefully rebuilt; the windows replaced, even the floors were cleaned. Every remnant that there had ever been a terrible experience among the walls had been eliminated. Except, of course, that there was a grave commemorating Albus Dumbledore and other fallen heroes outside, in the vast grounds of Hogwarts.

Hermione felt practically as giddy and excited to be back, as she had been as a first year student.

Yet, she continued to feel the same fear as she had felt in the first year, too. She was not one to deal well with the unexpected, and felt that she needed to know everything all of the time; in the first year, she did not know what to expect from Hogwarts at all. She knew it was a school, but it was a school of _magic._ Magic Hermione hadn't even been sure existed until she came here- then of course, it was proven to be true. It had also been proven to be true that she was one of the most powerful witches of her age - rising quickly to the top of the ranks in the majority of her classes, despite her blood status.

Coming to Hogwarts was just one of the risks that Hermione had taken. That particular risk had paid off. With others, however, she had not been so lucky. Other previous risks had caused her to be tortured by an evil woman with a piercing gaze and a deranged cackle. Albus Dumbledore had suffered his death because of a risk- along with so many others that she cared about. It only made Hermione more and more reluctant to do anything differently.

So when Hermione had received a strongly worded letter, along with other Hogwarts students of the same age, telling her that her return to school was compulsory, she was frightened. She had no idea why she was returning - and would rather not have returned at all. Although she would never have admitted it; the idea of lessons seemed so pointless to her now, what with the fact that the students of Hogwarts had more experience in practical magical skills than they could have possibly hoped for.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall was flooded with students; more so than anyone could have anticipated.<p>

Draco, in particular, was shocked by the number of seventh years present in school. He wasn't sure why he was here, and he had only been able to presume that it was because of some sort of 'redemption', making up for the fact that he'd be such a darned _traitor_, for lack of a better word. Therefore, in the presence of the 'Golden Trio', and all of the other students he remembered from previous years, he realised he must have been wrong.

_What the hell is going on?_

The war had certainly not had an effect on the number of new students in attendance. They flooded the hall, each looking as excited and desperately scared as the last; McGonagall refusing to offer any kind of condolences or supporting 'pats on the back'. McGonagall seemed to retain the majority of her duties from last year - leading all new people to the sorting hat in order to be placed into the house where their loyalties would lie for the next five years; although she resigned from her post as the head of Gryffindor house - handing that position over to another Professor in order to avoid biases in her new position as headmistress. Draco wasn't entirely sure whom that was, but he did not particularly care.

It was quickly realised that Draco Malfoy was not the only person feeling relatively apprehensive of the unknown. As the house tables erupted into masses of applause at new students being welcomed into their ranks, it was a common occurrence for the older students at those same tables to appear as though in a daze - clapping half heartedly with an estranged look on their faces.

Before he knew it; the process, which _usually _took an extremely long time indeed, was already over, all of the new students seated, the prefects and sixth year head boy and girl crowned. The others prepared to resume the usual traditions of eating a hearty meal and then retreating to their dormitories to catch up with their friends - or in the case of the first years, to make new ones.

It was only when Professor McGonagall directly addressed the older students that they all snapped out of their trances together.

"...All of those students aged sixteen and above," She continued, her strong Scottish accent echoing across the hallowing space of the Great Hall, "are expected to stay in the Great Hall after their meals for further instruction. With that, you may begin."

A large amount of food appeared before the students, and the vast majority began to fill their faces with the bountiful harvests of roasted meats, vegetables, roasted potatoes and a rich gravy. The seventh years, however, all the way around the hall, froze- not daring to touch any of it. Hermione even realised that Ron; Ron Weasley; was not even beginning to eat. It was unheard of - extraordinary, even.

After a small while, they did begin to eat. Some took longer than others; some exchanged small, hushed whispers among one another, yet the vast majority of older students ate in silence - keeping their thoughts to themselves and allowing the light-hearted conversations of the younger's rule the room.

The end of the evening came far too quickly - the first years being directly lead to their dormitories by the newly appointed head of houses; seeing as the majority of prefects were over sixteen; thus, having to stay behind with the population of seventh years. Ginny was one of these people, a fact that soothed Hermione as they were such close friends. Ginny realised Hemione's discomfort with situations of which she did not recognise, and offered Hermione her hand. When Hermione took it, the cooling skin calmed her, which she appreciated greatly.

"I cannot act," Professor McGonagall began suddenly, causing the students to look away from one another and look at her instead, "like I am pleased with the predicament that we have been placed in, but before I continue, I need you to understand that the arrangements are non-negotiable."

The students nodded simply in reply, Ginny's hold on Hermione's hand becoming tighter.

"Good." McGonagall paused, swallowing her discomfort before continuing, "Due to issues among the Wizarding world, the ministry have found it necessary to implement _Marriage Law_, meaning that each person over the age of sixteen in Wizarding England has been paired with an appropriate partner-"

Hermione's hand ripped itself from Ginny's, and raised itself of its own accord.

"Miss Granger?"

Frowning at the pressure of being stared at by her fellow peers, Hermione shook her head of her fear and continued. She removed her first question of 'Why is there a Marriage Law?' from her mind, as Professor McGonagall was unlikely to know; similarly, she could not ask how the ministry felt that it was just. Instead, she moved to a question that she realised the majority of the room would be holding.

"You mean we have no choice in who we are paired with at all?"

"No." McGonagall continued, her face falling into sadness for a split-second before changing back into her composed, steely gaze - so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure that she had seen it at all. The students erupted into sudden hushed whispers - each one growing more anxious than the last until McGonagall began speaking again.

"Continuing," She paused, allowing the whispers to die down completely, "You will be expected to enter a marriage with your assigned partner within the month - a bonded marriage" She clarified, causing the jaws of assorted students to drop, "and you must produce a child within the year."

Students then refused to keep their voices to restrained whispers. All eyes widened, and those who weren't completely silent from the shock of it found themselves profusely exclaiming cries of unlawfulness; Pansy Parkinson from the Slytherin table finding herself unable to do anything but let out a deranged scream.

"That's insane!"

"They can't do that-"

"What does the ministry think they're doing?"

"Bloody Shacklebolt."

"Why on ear-"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, causing silence to fall again across the Great Hall. She took out and waved her wand once, causing small, cream coloured envelopes with the allocated student's name to appear on the front of them.

"These contain further instruction," She began again, her voice strained and sad, "Along with your allocated partner. You may open them as you wish-"

The sound of paper then overran McGonagall's voice, and she sighed - slumping into the chair she was standing in front of previously. Turning towards her paper, Hermione felt Ginny's hand slip from hers.

Ginny tore open her envelope frantically; her brother following the same intuition. Hermione sighed and smiled grimly at the Weasley's impatience, flicking her gaze between their faces, studying their reactions.

Ginny's was light-hearted; a warm glow spreading across her face along with a smile. Immediately turning to Harry, she locked her arms around him and buried her face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, silent tears dripping across her face in relief.

Harry, not even needing to open the envelope with his name scrawled across the front, responded kindly to Ginny's embrace; locking one arm around her waist and supporting the back of her head with the other hand.

"It's okay, Ginny." He murmured into her hair, soothingly, yet nervously, "We belong together."

Ron's reaction wasn't so pleasant.

It was a good thing that the plates had been magically cleared away by the elves, as Ron's fist angrily hit the table. Hard. Hermione watched as his gaze fall onto the face of one Lavender Brown, before he tore it away again, burying his head in his arms.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no-"

"Ronnie!"

Lavender's idiotically irritating voice echoed across the hall, louder than all others. She immediately ran to him; shoving him up from the table and placing herself onto his lap. Ron's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at Hermione wistfully. Hermione, however, could not help but be ten times more frightened. She was sure that she would have ended up with Ronald. The ministry must have seen the press about the two of them being involved in a 'budding romance' as they had referred to it. She was sure that she was going to be involved with him - and had become accustomed to the very idea. Hermione couldn't imagine herself with anyone else. She didn't think that there _was_ anyone else.

Her graceful fingers ripped at the heavy envelope - her heart racing and her skin beginning to become even more cold and clammy than it was before. She scanned quickly over what was written there, ignoring the small printed instructions and rules, deciding to herself that she would read them later.

In fact, all Hermione could find herself focusing on were the bold words, slightly larger than the others, emphasizing her partner in this ludicrous program.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

Hermione felt her heart stop - her worrying had not been unjustified. She heard herself gasp - rather loudly, in fact - dropping her papers.

Luckily, Ginny has prepared for this as soon as Hermione had begun ripping open the envelope, and caught the paper in two very nimble hands. She gestured towards it, privately asking Hermione if she could read it, and when she received a nod in response, her eyes moved quickly towards the bold letters.

"Oh, Hermione."

Nodding once, Hermione found that it was her turn to drop her head into her arms, staying completely silent and letting her eyes close. Ginny's hand ran soothingly up and down her back, but Hermione found that it helped very little. Nothing would change the fact that Hermione would indeed by marrying into the Malfoys, and although she had not read the consequences for not doing so yet; she was decidedly sure that even she would not be able to find a loop-hole in the ministry's newest scheme.

* * *

><p>Draco rolled his eyes at Pansy's repeated screams at the partner she had been given.<p>

Blaise grabbed sight of the piece of paper that she'd thrown across the table in disgust, and let out a roar of laughter at her discomfort. He proceeded to attempt to calm himself, mouthing the word 'Longbottom' at Draco, who raised an eyebrow in amusement in response.

Tearing open his own envelope a moment later, Blaise himself found himself raising both eyebrows in response to his own partner. He didn't seem all that disgusted, and Draco found himself intrigued.

"Who'd you get?" He asked, attempting to ignore Pansy, who had grabbed his arm and was proceeding to cry into it.

"Luna."

"The Ravenclaw?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's not so bad." Draco said, honestly, "Could be worse."

"Indeed. At least she doesn't talk much." Blaise paused for a moment, thinking before his face contorted to one of surprise and he began speaking again.

"Oh, Draco! Who did you get?"

With this, Pansy pulled away, looking around the room with venom; looking for someone who could possibly have been given her beloved. She spotted a few people looking relieved - some hysterical, some sad.

"Why look at that," Theodore Nott spoke up from next to Blaise, who appeared to be doing a similar kind of 'scouting' to Pansy. "The Wizarding world's favourite couple has been torn apart."

The group turned to see the disgruntled Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Both people looked as disappointed as each other, but Blaise and Draco couldn't say that they were surprised. On worse days, the loved couple bickered so loudly that it burst their eardrums and at best, they were seen to be sitting in the quiet awkwardness that they called a 'relationship'.

"Who cares about them?" Continued Blaise, glaring at Draco's letter with a mad glint in his eyes, "What about you?"

Draco sighed, slipping a pale finger under the seal and breaking it in one movement before taking out the paper and reading the text there slowly, his steely grey eyes drawn to the emphasized words.

_Hermione Jean Granger._

Pansy let out another deranged scream, and Draco had to restrain what would have been a ridiculous gasp. Blaise's eyes widened, and he shook Draco gently.

"Who?"

Draco found himself speechless, so he simply thrust the paper into Blaise's hands, using his own palms to massage his temple, his whole face contorted into a grimace.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Replied Draco, finding the means to speak.

"Well at least we know why Granger's refusing to look up from her arms now." Theo chipped in, looking to and from the piece of paper briefly, simply needing to confirm his suspicions. In all honesty, he knew that Draco and Hermione would make a relatively successful couple - but he also knew that their prejudices would have stopped it from ever becoming a reality. He considered that perhaps the ministry were more intelligent than they first appeared; but then he considered that it were also true that Granger and Draco were more likely to hex each other into oblivion than they were to want to marry each other.

"At least she's hot." Blaise offered, earning himself a venomous look from Pansy.

Draco aimed another look in Hermione's direction, and realised that Blaise was right. Her hair had been tamed since he last remembered her, and although she was lent over, her realised that her body too, had matured.

_No._

He refused to let himself think that way. This was Granger, bloody _Granger,_ that he was being forced to marry. He hated her and from the looks of things, she wasn't exactly fond of him, either.

McGonagall stood again, and the students immediately responded by pausing their conversations and looking up at her. Draco noticed that Hermione refused to move her head from the long table, despite her Weasley friend nudging her repeatedly.

"Now that you all have your partners, you are expected to move into a small apartment with them to become accustomed to one another." Frowning, she continued, "There is a new building in the school grounds that you are expected to use. The details are again, on your letters."

There was a long, silent pause, and to the students surprise, McGonagall offered a small, quiet apology, before leaving the hall, her robes billowing out behind her.

* * *

><p><em>AN - Oh, Merlin._

_You guys are the BOMB. I didn't intend to upload another chapter for another week - but you're all so amazing that I couldn't leave you alone for another week. See, this is what reviews do to me! They give you frequent updates! (More frequent than I can handle! I mean, this is this literally where I have written up to!)_

_I just want to say a massive thanks! I will definitely be continuing this now; and I hope you continue to give me the wondrous responses that you have been so far - I appreciate it more than you can ever imagine._

_I'll probably be writing some kind of Dramione Christmas special for the the fun of it - so I'll keep you posted on that!_

_LOTS of love from sunny ol' England!3_


	3. Goodbye to Normality

_A/N - You guys are still the absolute bomb. Thanks for reviewing! Please continue to do so._

_This chapter's shorter than usual - about half the size (forgive me!). It's the last chapter before things start to become different - hence the title - and from here on out it starts to get interesting._

_Keeping reading, I love you all, and without further ado..._

* * *

><p>The students in the Great Hall had left when they felt it was appropriate to.<p>

There was no time constraint on where they had to be, and when - just that they had to eventually follow the instructions of the parchment each student had received - stating _almost_ word for word of what McGonagall had said.

Hermione scanned over them almost immediately after McGonagall had left; just like she had promised herself she would. Surely enough, in black, calligraphic font, just below that which spelt out her… '_partner's _name, were solid instructions and basic information to conform to.

_Students must abide by the partner of which they have been given, as these are non-negotiable._

_It is expected that students marry within the month, and produce a child within the year._

_Students should share an assigned living space with one another._

_The details of 'Bonded Marriages' must be followed carefully in order to avoid unwanted injury._

Hermione shook her head at that, realizing that in such a short space of time - Draco Malfoy would be her _betrothed._She would be 'Mrs. Malfoy', relative and _family_ to the woman that had tortured her; even _if_ indirectly - it was simply unjust. She wanted to scream and bellow that it was not possible for the ministry to invoke such ludicrous laws, although of course, it was. Frowning in defeat, she continued.

_Students will be placed in living accommodations, organised in a way in which your headmistress deems appropriate._

_**Miss Granger **__will be required to stay in __Apartment 16, North Tower_.

_We hope that you find the situation agreeable._

_-Kingsley Shacklebolt_

'Agreeable?' Hermione thought angrily, frowning, 'That man's off his rocker.'

Truthfully, she had been able to handle the letter up until that point. It had seemed... almost reasonable. Nothing too shocking, past the whole 'arranged marriages' situation itself, of which she found herself surprisingly calm about. But the fact that the Minister even had the audacity to refuse to apologise in any format for the reduction of free will was maddening, enraging eve-

"'Mione?"

Hermione was ripped from her thoughts by a saddened voice, and turned her head towards it. Her brown eyes found themselves meeting the watery-blue of Ron's, his cheeks flushed a 'doll's pink against his snowy skin.

"Ron."

"I guess…" He began, reluctantly, "We weren't supposed to… Y'know…"

"Be together?" Hermione suggested, not lifting the frown from her face.

"Yeah."

"Would we have been together, even without this, Ron?" Began Hermione, her sadness turning quickly into rage again, "You don't trust me, you didn't _appreciate_ me enough to tell _that_-" She snapped, gesturing at Lavender, "-to get lost, did you?"

"Hermione-"

"You know what? Save it."

Hermione offered a small wave to Harry and Ginny before turning away, using the same palm to place a short, sharp 'smack' on Ron's already reddened cheek.

"I have more important things to worry about." She muttered, walking briskly out of the Great Hall; towards her unavoidable future.

* * *

><p>Malfoy was one of the first people to stride from the Great Hall after McGonagall had left; eager to avoid the crowds of questioning females that were bound to come upon him - especially after Pansy's rather <em>vocal<em> reaction to the predicament.

Personally, Draco was rather tired of being seen as a piece of prime meat by the vast numbers of female students at Hogwarts. It was unfortunate that one of those hadn't been his future betrothed… Or that's what he was trying to convince himself.

He _certainly _didn't think that it would be _nice_ to have some kind of a mental challenge - or any challenge at all - for a change.

_Certainly not._

_"_You going to be alright Malfoy?"

"I'm not sure." He replied, not even needing to turn his chiselled face to recognize the low, gruff tones of Zabini. "Probably not."

"Where are you staying?"

"North Tower." Draco said, squinting against the sun at the grounds and spotting two large towers that hadn't been there before. They were long, stone columns, with small, box like shapes poking out in a spiralling pattern. He supposed that each of the boxes was an individual living accommodation for each pair. "Yourself?"

"Well that's a bit of luck." He said, raising a heavy hand and clapping Draco on the back, "At least I'm close by to save you from insanity."

"Hey!" The squeal recognizably as Pansy's came from behind them, "Me too!"

Without needing to exchange worlds, Blaise and Draco kept a quick stride - being careful not to turn their heads and acknowledge that she'd spoken at all. Yet, the high pitched buzz persisted.

"Crap."

"Balls."

"Keep going."

"On it."

"Shit."

"Fuck."

"Drakey!"

Pansy managed to latch herself onto a crook in Draco's arm, her hair swinging neatly around her shoulders- ink black contrasting to the pale blonde. She laughed in a way that could only be described in a giggle, lifting her eyes, dark with lust, to meet his.

"We can keep meeting, Drake. We don't have to quit!"

"Pansy. Get off."

"Wha- what?" Replied she, blinking twice and loosening her grip slightly before tightening it desperately. "Why?"

"Because-" He began, wrenching open the door to the bottom of the tower before any other student had the opportunity, "I don't want to mess this up before it's even begun."

"Who cares?" Pansy persisted, following him up the stairs further than she needed to, seeing as her apartment number was only '3', "Sure, that _prude_ Granger might, but everyone already knows that you're mine."

"Yours?" Draco replied shortly, stopping outside of his door and attempting to ignore a chuckling Blaise as he continued his ascent, "What do you mean _yours_?"

"Drake. We've practically been dating since day _one_ of Hogwarts! Our parents had practically signed our marriage certificates!"

"We have certainly _not_ been dating, Pans." Sighed Draco, exasperated, "And who cares _what_ my parents say? I certainly don't."

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you wanted this!"

"Wanted this?" He laughed coldly, "You can't be serious."

"Well then!" Pansy replied, removing herself from Draco's side. He was about to exhale a sigh of relief, when he felt Pansy's chest pressing into his, pushing him against the wall just to the left of the door to number 16. "You won't be opposed to this."

"Wha-"

Pansy took Draco's wrists in her palms, pinning them above his head. She did not have to lift herself, being the tall, slim, model-like girl that she was, but simply moved her thin lips to Draco's neck; speaking into his ear breathing heavily.

"I know it's not just me. I know you _want_ m-"

From behind her appeared a quick flash of black which stopped suddenly outside of the door. Seeming surprisingly calm, Hermione simply rolled her eyes and twisted the handle, entering the room and closing the door swiftly behind her.

As though electrically shocked, Draco pushed Pansy away from himself and immediately brushed his robes of invisible dirt.

"I will _never_ say that to you Pansy, because it would always be a lie."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but he simply shook his head in response.

"And between you and me? I never _did_ want you. Not before, not now, not ever."

Draco turned away and let himself into the apartment, leaving a quaking Pansy in his wake.


	4. Acts of Kindness

Having had bid her friends a 'goodbye', if that's what you could call it, Hermione swept exceedingly quickly up to the tower, following the long winding staircase; casually noting the numbers on the doors as she went. Also noting the emptiness, she knew that it had clearly been a while since the students had been dismissed, which suited her fine. She'd rather not have to encounter the school's greatest pure-blooded females - having to explain to them that she was certainly not happy, she certainly didn't want to be stuck with the supposed 'Slytherin Prince' and that she certainly didn't want their intrusions.

Not that they would have listened.

The only thing that marred her journey up to her new home, she'd mused, had been her... fiancée, she supposed he was now - pressed against the wall by one of these same pure-blooded wenches that she'd ventured to escape from.

Refusing to let it bother her, Hermione swept past them and opened the door to the apartment; slipping in and letting it close behind her. She exhaled a sudden sigh of relief as she stepped foot into her home – exhaling a breath that she hadn't been aware that she was holding.

A surprisingly neutral, cream toned room welcomed her; an averagely sized wooden table stretching out across the space, surrounded neatly by six chairs – Hermione guessed, with a smile, that the space would be appropriate on occasions that they were to have guests, or simply for everyday dining.

Lights were frequent hanging on the walls with a frosted glass covering, making the entire space seem more modern, and warm. More importantly, it made it far easier to read than it would have been if the space was dimmer – saving her from what would have been imminent eyestrain.

The colour scheme continued throughout the house, Hermione realised as she explored, from the quaint kitchen to the bathroom; and from what she supposed must be the master bedroom to the nursery.

It definitely seemed... liveable. Unloved, yes; but that could be rectified - _would_ be rectified if Hermione had anything to say about it.

A slam of the door brought her from her logical thoughts to where she was currently stood in the nursery. It was bare, other than the wooden crib that lay in the centre- serving a constant reminder to Hermione of her imminent doom. That was, if she did not want to have all of the wonderful magical world she had discovered at eleven torn from her brutally by the same people who had instilled it. She would certainly not allow _Malfoy_ to take that away from her.

That's what the Death-Eaters wanted all along.

Yet, it didn't mean she had to _like_ him.

She shook her head slowly, knowing that he was probably searching for her - to attempt to _apologise_ or something equally ridiculous. Hermione could say with complete honesty that she did not care whom and when Malfoy fraternized with others; so long as she could end this ludicrous feat painlessly, it did not bother her- so his apology would mean nothing when he offered it. Not to mention the fact that Hermione was a firm believer in only saying what you mean; saying what you mean - the truth being the ultimate respect. If Malfoy were to apologise now, she knew that she would be more irate than appeased. He certainly wouldn't mean it, after all, he had been thrown into this as much as she.

"Granger."

Spinning away from the window in the wall of the inevitable child's room, she turned to face the voice, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She did not show any emotion with her action - the only expression she showed being simply nonchalance.

"Malfoy."

"Look, I'm s-"

"Stop."

Hermione held up a stiff palm, attempting to smile in something that appeared to come out as more of a grimace.

"I don't need your apologies."

Malfoy's silver eyes widened and he blinked a few times, clearly assessing whether he had heard Hermione correctly or not.

"What?"

"What do you have to be sorry for, Malfoy?" Hermione answered in another question, probing him softly. "You don't want to be here as much as I don't wish to be here. I didn't expect you to drop..._everything_."

"Then your presumptions are wrong." Malfoy snapped back quickly, a moments silence separating his statements, "And believe me when I say, I didn't think I'd ever be able to say that _Hermione Granger_was _wrong._"

"Wrong about _what_?" Hermione responded primly, ignoring Malfoy's backhanded complimenting.

"Well," He began slowly, contemplating what he had been told and being careful not to make an outlandish statement of which Granger would be sure to pick up on, "You've assumed, and already come to terms with, the fact that you believe I'm not willing to give up on my more..."

"-Outlandish?"

"For a lack of a better term, yes. Outlandish, ways."

"Well, yes." Hermione agreed, cocking an eyebrow with uncertainty, "Would you be?"

"That depends."

Hermione sighed. He implied her suspicions where false and unprecedented, and then attempted to bargain for her right to see.. herself proved wrong?

She couldn't help but think that this was a strongly broken system.

Yet her curiosity was piqued.

"On?" Hermione continued, cautiously.

"Weasley."

"What about him?"

Draco sighed, massaging his pale, creased, temple as though he were frustrated. Hermione wanted to smile at that - she knew what Malfoy was angling for and she wouldn't give him the answer he wanted easily; simply due to the fact that it would be _just that_. Too easy.

"Stop seeing him, and anyone else for that matter- and I'll stop seeing people too."

From Hermione's expression, it would seem that she was showing a sarcastic, over-dramatised show of shock; yet in truth, she really _was_ shocked. She'd had an inkling over what she'd thought he might say - perhaps that he wouldn't bring people back to the apartment, perhaps something similar, but not something so...

Kind?

Malfoy, Draco _Malfoy_. Kind?

"Why would you do that?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, but he knew that Hermione was not questioning his actions, merely his motives. He couldn't say that it didn't offend him- and he had to keep a tight lip to stop himself from lashing out at her prejudices. Then again, it wasn't like he'd given her any reason to disprove them yet. Draco had already been perfectly aware that coming back to Hogwarts for this year would be challenging. More challenging than any other, in fact, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Because I want you to trust me, Hermione."

Her name. He'd said her _name_. Not her _mudblood_ surname, but her impartial given name; albeit, and unusual forename.

_**Kind?**_

"I made mistakes." He began again, before Hermione could say another word - which Draco was sure would have been another question anyway. "I made _all_ the wrong decisions, and I don't want to have to live by that for the rest of my life."

"Why do _I_ make a difference?" Hermione queried, quietly.

"You make all the difference." Malfoy responded soundly, his face solid and sure, "If this ministry farce can help me to establish a friendship, especially seeing as it's with someone like you, who's been rewarded for offering utterly brilliant ones, I'm not such an idiot that I would turn down the opportunity. And if I can earn your trust by giving up something so pitiful as useless banter with people I don't even like?"

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I've enough self control to do so."

Shocked was a complete understatement, now. This man, a young man she'd believed so evil- seemed to be telling the truth in its entirety. Hermione simply couldn't think of anything to say immediately; she didn't want to give up Ron, certainly not, but it was going to be inevitable one way or another thanks to the 'trustworthy' Shacklebolt. Besides, if this helped her 'betrothed' to become more bearable, then it was a benefit to her; surely.

Wasn't it?

"Deal." She spoke, after a while, and she watched as Malfoy's face, which had been contorting slowly into one of uncertainty, changed back into a smile. A smile Hermione could think of only one word to describe.

_Kind._

Relieving her more serious thoughts, Hermione began laughing softly, shaking her head slowly.

"Have you checked whether Miss Parkinson will agree with your 'relationship's severance, whether permanent or not?"

At this, Malfoy cracked a larger smile - one that Hermione could notice without looking with extreme detail, unlike the others.

"She wont have a choice."

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_**

**_**_Draco's a bit OOC here- but don't worry! When you take a look at the next chapter and see inside of his charming wee mind, you'll see that I'm NOT mad!_**_**

__(Much)...__

_Sorry for the week late update - I got spammed with work! (I still have loads, but I couldn't keep procrastinating, you guys are too wonderful for that!)_

_I guess it's what you get for choosing hardcore a-levels. /Lesigh (E's in Chemistry for the FAIL)_

_**Late Happy New Year to all of you! Enjoy it; just in case zombies come to get us on the 21st of December! (PREPARE JUST IN CASE)**_

_Anyway, I'm going to respond to all of my reviewers so far, but please keep reviewing because it makes me feel like I'm actually alright at this writing thing I like doing!_

_I've also hit a bit of a dead end with this story - so if you have any ideas that you'd like to see come to life, leave them in the dippley doppley commenty blobbity below, and I'll make sure to credit you if I use any of your wonderful ideas! C:_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Review Notes;<em>**

_**Kermit 304** - Thank you so so so much; I appreciate your reviews more than you can imagine! You make me feel like I've got some hope at being successful with writing- which is ultimately something I'd really like to do one day, when I get round to writing some decent original material! Each of your reviews makes my day, so thank you! C:_

_**Bleeding Pages** - Sticking to the original is SO hard, so thank you for believing that I'm doing a reasonable job at it!:3_

_**Mgmve2008** - I'm glad you like it; and I hope you continue to do so!_

_**NinjaClarinetGirlBianca** - Thank you! I intend to do so!_

_**IGOTEAMEDWARD** - Yay, thank you! Go team Edward! ;D_

_**PirateXXQueen** - Thank you! & Wait for it... Waaaaaaait for it... I imagine I won't be able to resist getting Hermione to slap Ron in the face sooner or later! If not once, maybe twice... or thrice... _

_**JaspersEmotionalGirl** - He hasn't been punished enough! Stinky selfish man; -_- Just wait 'til you see what he's done! Or... is going to inevitably do! & Thank you; it means so much!_

_**Thetreasure11** - Huzzah! Thank you muchly!_

_**Ranibow2malfoy** - Thank you! Draco's reaction to the letter was hard to write, so it's wonderful that you say that! Thanks a load!_

_**Hottopicgirl** - Thank you so very much!_

_**Iyrsiiea** - Thanks! & You got it; will do!_

_**MrsIzzyBlack** - What a wonderful review - thank you very much! I'm glad you like it! Happy New year to you too!_

_**Imy321** - I intend to; these pesky a-levels just have a habit of wheedling themselves into my way..._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Also, thank you to all of the wonderful people who have taken the time to add this to their Story Alerts, Favourites, or simply read it - Love you all!<em>**

**_(Any ideas of upcoming events in the story? Leave them in the _dippley doppley commenty blobbity below!)__**


	5. Mistakes

Kingsley Shacklebolt actively cursed over the letters that he had received in the last twenty four hours.

He was perfectly aware that the majority of parents would be disappointed with the ministry's decision when they'd made it, but had hoped that more would be understanding. He'd been sent letters from students, and other completely un-involved citizens, which he'd been surprised at, but Kingsley certainly _hadn't _expected to receive such an awful howler from the headmistress of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"-SOME OF THE BEST STUDENTS I HAVE EVER HAD ARE INVOLVED IN THIS FARCE - NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT THE PEOPLE WHO ERADICATED LORD VOLDEMORT AND SAVED THE BLOODY WORLD ARE TOO. YOU SHOULD BE REWARDING THEM, AND YET TWO OUT OF THREE ARE DUE TO BE BOUND TO PEOPLE THEY DO NOT EVEN LIKE! GET OFF YOUR BACKSIDE, MR. SHACKLEBOLT, AND DO SOMETHING BEFORE I COME OVER THERE TO DO IT FOR YOU!"

It had been a particularly long howler, too. The ministry, which was was still in a position of disrepute, (not so much as it had been before, though), had halted its actions to listen to the howler's message. The vast majority wanted to hear who would have the audacity to talk to the Minister in such a manner; many had giggled quietly to themselves after realising whose voice it in fact was.

After the long rant was over, the howler stuck out it's long, ribbon tongue - blew a loud raspberry, and proceeded to burst into a series of impressive flames that lasted no longer than two seconds.

Shacklebolt blinked. Then blinked again, before slumping into his chair, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his head in his palm.

He couldn't voice how much he wished he could do _something_. This idiot assistant's idea had seemed good - at the time - and would solve all of the ministry's issues. Sadly, Kingsley now realised that he'd neglected to see the views of the citizens on the matter; he'd figured that they had enough respect for the ministry that they would comply with the laws with no concern for what they were. He now, of course, remembered that the vast majority had lost the respect they'd had for the overbearing system at the beginning of the recent war, when the previous minister had ignored the existence of a Dark Lord at all - wasting valuable time.

Growling, Kingsley used his other arm and swept the contents of his desk aside, the items landing on the floor in thuds, smashes and the fluttering of paper. It relieved a small amount of his anger, but not enough. He needed another way of venting, another way of releasing some of the pent up rage over the decision he'd rashly made; then he would be able to calmly think of a way to appease the public and 'fix' this mess.

At that time, his assistant strolled formally into his office, holding a breakfast tray; complete with a morning cup of pumpkin juice and a fresh pastry on fine china. The assistant blinked for a moment, at the Minister's possessions being strewn onto the floor, before placing the tray calmly on the newly cleaned, hardwood desk.

"Will that be all sir?"

"No." Shacklebolt replied, holding back an internal smile about how wonderfully timed the assistant's visit had been, "That will _not_ be all."

* * *

><p>Ron and Lavender's relationship had only begun to deteriorate, not improve, since the news was passed.<p>

It had hit Ron like a ton of bricks - that day, in the great hall; sat at the Gryffindor house table and watching Hermione sweep quickly out of the door. He was sat simply wishing that he could stop her. If he could have broken out of the constraints that Lavender had him under - her arms wrapped tightly around his chin mercilessly - then he knew that he would have had nothing to say to improve her mood.

She was right, after all.

He'd had his chance - he'd chosen badly. Ron had presumed that Hermione would be 'available' to him forever.

_No._ He thought, a frown etching it's way onto his pale, freckled face, _That's a bad way of putting it._

But there was _no_ better way.

It was a bad thing, to presume that someone as wonderful as her would be constantly around to hold his hand - to make him feel better. He hadn't wanted his relationship with Lavender Brown to be a long term thing; Hermione was someone whom he'd want forever.

The thing about Lavender was... that... well... she 'put out more'.

He'd shrugged off Lavenders arms, leaned his head into his hands and cursed about what a deranged idiot he'd been. Only now did Ron realise that there were far more important things than having the girl 'put out' - one, for example, was liking the person you were dating.

_If only I'd realised that sooner._ His internal monologue growled, and Ron's frown intensified.

"Won won?"

_Urgh. The bee doesn't know when to give up._

Ron almost smiled, at that. 'The bee' had been a nickname he'd given Lavender recently - seeing as she'd always appeared at the worst of times; flying around his face and making him wish he could almost slap her away. He held his smile back, though. She'd think he was happy to hear her, happy that she cared. But when her voice could only remind him of the rapid beatings of the wings of an insect, he was certainly _not_ pleased to hear her.

"What?"

"Is something wrong?" Lavender cooed, wrapping her arms around his neck where he was sitting, pressing her body into his suggestively, "Can I help you with anythi-"

At this, Ron stood and Lavender's face lit up at the fact he still wanted her. She _knew_ her 'won won' still loved her! She knew everything was going to be okay, and that the minister certainly hadn't made a mistake this time.

"Bugger off, Lavender."

Her smug face contorted into one of shock, as she watched her boyfriend walk out of the hall in an action that could only be described as 'stomping'.

It was that stupid girl - Granger. Lavender scowled fiercely. That's what he was hung up on. It made Lavender want to knock on the door of every apartment until she found her and then when she did, she would-

Well, she wasn't sure what she would do. But Lavender then realised that she needn't have bothered. After all, Ron Weasley was _hers_ now. Her fiancee, her future.

Hers. And no-one else's.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy had been surprisingly courteous to Hermione Granger on their first night in the same home.<p>

He'd made jokes, of course, about it only being a 'onetime thing'- promising her that it would never happen again - but they both knew it not to be true. In all honesty, Hermione intensely struggled to wrap her head around how much it were possible for one person to change in such a short period of time - a simple summer.

Draco, however, was not surprised in the slightest.

What went on inside of his head was a mystery, to many a person. Sometimes, even to himself, but not anymore. Now, he could understand why he'd been so confused for so many years; he realised why he had been so hung up on being the best he could be.

All he had wanted, was to earn the respect of his father.

It had caused him much confusion, over the years. He'd tossed and turned for nights, wondering why he was so reluctant to take the dark-mark and then felt disgusted with himself when he proceeded to do so; why he couldn't kill his headmaster when ordered to by someone he was supposed to respect; why he didn't respect who he was supposed to respect.

And why he could never bring himself to take a life, be it of a 'mudblood' or a muggle.

On one night, while Draco Malfoy was tossing and turning beneath the heavy sheets of his bed, he had realised.

He had realised that he simply did not house the same prejudices of his family. He didn't believe the same things - he didn't _want _the same things. He wasn't evil - perhaps he knew how to 'get his own way' sometimes, through a little bit of manipulation, but that didn't make him evil.

Simply a Slytherin.

The views of a Slytherin had been so warped, over the years, he'd realised, on that hot summer's night. People of the wizarding world now expected those sorted into Slytherin to be disappointingly evil; and their expectations drew the lines of fate for those same students. Draco had realised that those rare Slytherins with people to believe otherwise turned out to be some of the best people who had ever lived - Severus Snape, and Dumbledore's faith within him, having been a key example.

Of course, Draco Malfoy had made some mistakes. He'd made some decisions that had resulted in torture; in death. He couldn't erase the viewing of Granger's torture by the hand of his aunt from his mind, nor his own tortures, or the deaths of innocent muggles. Perhaps he could have prevented some of them, perhaps he couldn't.

But on that summer's night, when Draco Malfoy couldn't stop tossing and turning, he'd made a resolution along with his epiphany.

No longer, would Draco Malfoy lie to himself.

As he turned over on the couch, that was surprisingly uncomfortable when one was attempting to sleep on it, he smiled and thought about Hermione, in her- _their,_ room. If doing such a simple act of kindness would help him to earn back some respect, it was worth it. Draco wouldn't allow one of the greatest witches of her generation - of any generation, in fact - to rule her judgement of him without seeing who he really was; who had been hiding inside of his head all along.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN-_**

_Two chapters in two days! Woah!_

_I decided you deserved it - as I was absent for a couple-a weeks!:3_

_Hope you like it! It's a bit broken up- but just tying up a few loose ends that were left already! _

_As I said yesterday, let me know for any plot suggestions you have & Leave them in the __dippley doppley commenty blobbity__! I have a few... none of them particularly great though! If you astound me, and I use it, I'll credit you! Promise!_

_-DP_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Review Notes;<strong>_

_**Kemit 304**- Just that they would be not seeing others romantically! I personally don't like it when people become overbearing and stop their boyfriends / girlfriends from seeing others, so I don't think I would write it to be a trait of characters I like! (Like Hermione and Draco!) Maybe for Lavender, though... Thanks as always!_

_ - Thank you! &I definitely haven't posted it elsewhere - I write it chapter by chapter as I go! Perhaps it was one similar! I suppose I'll have to flip the plot on it's head soon, to avoid boredom!_

_**Twipixie** the diehard twihard - Why thank you kind person!:-)_

_**Moriahhh** - Thank you! Dramione's brilliant._

_**Venetiangrl92** - Thanks! Here's another update for you!_

_**TwinzLover** - Yes, just that they can't see other people romantically! You'll see Harry and Ron with Hermione - probably in the next chapter, in fact!_


	6. The New Story

**CLOSE THIS TAB / WINDOW NOW AND I WILL PERSONALLY SEND THE LIVING DEAD AFTER YOU WHILEST YOU SLEEP.**

* * *

><p>Hello to the wonderful people of fan fiction!:D<p>

By now, I'm sure you're very tired of these temporary chapters. I mean, by god; I've just gone and replaced one of them with another (more permanent) one! However, I feel that I really should keep you updated, particularly as, at this current moment in time, I am requesting YOUR help!

YES. Citizens of England... and various other worldwide locations... I am asking for sidekicks to my Super-heroism!

**In normal people speak..;**

It has been irrevocably decided that I will no longer be updating the page of this particular Fan-fiction. You'll just have to dream... to wonder... what on earth could possibly have happened to Hermione, Draco, and Kingsley. Oh, poor, poor Kingsley. I rather like to think that Molly Weasley have had his head- but quite enough of that...

Moving swiftly on!

In order to express my sincerest gratitude for ALL of those who have ever bothered to read up to chapter five, I do very much intend on posting another story to Fan fiction. This, my loves, is where you come in.

The new Fan fiction I've been mulling over _COULD_ be an absolutely terrible idea – and if so, I need you to tell me this. The idea has not (at all) been written yet, so I'm in very early stages! I'd like you to inform me (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)- in a comment / review, of the following...:

1) Whether this idea sparks your interest

2) (If 'yes' to the above) where you'd like to see the story going

3) How often and on what day/s - you'd like to see updates

4) A possible name for the (currently unnamed) female lead

5) 1st Or 3rd Person?

6) If 'no' to number one (or even if 'yes' to number one!) Is there a plot for a Fan fiction story that you would _like_ to see written? (Doesn't have to be Harry Potter!) If yes, give me a plot summary in a message or review please!

On with the plot-line idea!

* * *

><p><strong>ARC: <strong>Harry Potter; Begins plot-line with the events of 'The Prisoner of Azkaban'

**SUMMARY:** Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail, Moony... Was that it? Mane, an unwritten addition the Marauders found herself well and truly crushed after the death of her best friend, James Potter, and the deaths of her parents at the hands of Death-Eaters. She found herself fleeing in grief, and no-one in the Wizarding World; bar the professor whom gave her guidance– Minerva McGonagall; has seen her since. When Minerva turns up at (unnamed)'s door, asking for her return to Hogwarts – this time, as a Transfiguration professor – how can she refuse? Surely, it's just a coincidence that Remus Lupin happens to be the new defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Surely, it's just a coincidence that Sirius Black has broken out of Azkaban as soon as she makes her reappearance.

Isn't it?

**MAIN CHARACTERS:** 'Mane' (Unnamed Female), Marauders, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Various Hogwarts staff and students and other misc. characters.

* * *

><p>Okay, so...? What do you think? Worth writing? No? Answer said questions above the summary in a review section thingy!<p>

Sorry about abandoning 'Arranged Marriages'. The plot-line's just not doing it for me – I don't find it enjoyable to write about any-more...

**LASTLY, for anyone (like me) who has got exams coming up soon that could make or break your life (FOUR DAYS!), Good luck! I'm sure you'll do brilliantly!:-)**

_Of course, please bear in mind that whichever plot-line I choose to write next will have their first update at a time later than the 23__rd__of May (Last exam date). Only a two week period of waiting! Unlike the unlimited one I had so far kept you in. Sorry about that again!_

Love always,

**_D_**


End file.
